Recovery
by Sunbitten
Summary: A series of one-shots and drabble. The new situation of Berk means big changes for everyone. 6th story: Furniture gets moved again.
1. Moving Furniture

_This will be a collection of one-shots and drabbles concerning the end of the movie and all things immediately after. Some will be humorous, others serious, who knows? Wide range of characters, wide range of ideas._

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**Moving Furniture**

It really should have been a whole lot easier than it was. After all, the worst of the disaster was over, wasn't it? He had inanely led all of his warriors right into the clutches of a preposterously huge dragon. He had experienced the most terrifying moment of his life thinking his son was dead. He had repaired boats from little more than charred ruins. All of those had been difficult in their various ways. Everything should have become easier from there.

Stoick blamed the bed.

Who was out of his mind upon designing that little something known as the bed? What happened to just throwing a bunch of furs on the floor and calling it good? Oh, everyone liked to blame the mice. The beds were supposed to keep their sleepers up off the floor and away from mice. But wait, mice had those tiny little claws that could certainly get a mouse off the floor and into a nice warm bed. So beds were completely useless in that department.

And why did they have to be so big and heavy? What was with this personality flaw that led to this taste for things that were large, ornately decorated, and bulky? What was the concept here? Make things big so more randomness could be carved into it?

In the beginning, the bed was just to a bed. And it had made perfect sense to move it to the main floor. When one's kid and his dragon fall a thousand or so feet and wham into the ground and the kid is injured and unconscious and one doesn't know when the kid is going to regain consciousness it was perfectly logical to put them in a bed that was in a convenient spot for keeping an eye on them. Stoick was an extremely busy man who really did not have the time to enter the house, climb the stairs, check on Hiccup, go back down the stairs, repeat an hour or so later. Save a few steps and put his bed in the main room. Throw open the door every now and then to see how Hiccup was doing.

It had sounded so easy.

He couldn't remember how he had gotten that bed up there in the first place. No clue.

It barely fit through the doorway.

And that was how Stoick found himself. Trapped up at the top of a staircase with a bed scraping against the walls, a bed precariously leaning downstairs. And he had absolutely no help. He had figured he could move a bed by himself. And he could. And he would. And it didn't matter that it would have been much easier had there been someone grabbing the other side of the bed. He really should have thought of that in the first place. Now… now he really wasn't in the position of getting past the bed and grudgingly asking someone for help.

The only other person in the house was Hiccup. Unconscious Hiccup who had been more or less thrown into a chair while his father decided to take a few minutes to get him a nice comfortable bed.

Great.

He took a deep breath. He could do this. He would just… push. Yes, push. One step at a time.

Except it was a rather slender staircase. The bed seemed just slightly wider than it.

He tried anyway. He pushed. Miraculously, it worked. He pushed again. One step, then another. Okay, slow going, but definitely workable.

Then his side of the bed caught in the doorway. Stoick twisted the wood. Nothing. The bed was jammed.

He sighed and pushed it. Then he threw his entire weight against the bed and out it sprung, Smooth, quick, and—

The house shook as the bed crashed, not down the steps, but right off the side in one steep plummet to the floor.

Stoick closed his eyes and breathed deeply for a few moments. He really did not want to put together another bed that of course would have to be ornately carved. Then, faking calm, he surveyed the damage.

The bed, the big bulky thing, was fine. Except for the side that had fallen into the hearth and was gently smoking.

He climbed down the stairs, turned the bed upright, and shoved it into the corner he had cleared. Good. Amazing how domestic he could be. He was all over this.

He lifted Hiccup into the bed and tucked a blanket around him. Hiccup looked so… non-trouble-making this way. So peaceful.

But if the kid regained consciousness within a day, Stoick would kill him.

Moving a bed required at least three days of unconsciousness. At the very, very least.


	2. Overprotective

_Thanks to everyone who read! Please, give me any tips necessary to writing HTTYD fics._

_This one is more serious than the last._

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**Overprotective**

Stoick had never liked to think of himself as overprotective. Those moments of realization brought panic and dismay over what sort of Viking he had become and a thousand vows to do better. He would let Hiccup roam a little more, fend for himself, have all those pieces of independence that every Viking required.

But he could not help it. Hiccup terrified him. From the moment Stoick in his hands that tiny screaming infant he was terrified. Terrified of that brand new life that was now his responsibility. And that terror only grew as the years passed and Hiccup grew into the most unpredictable and impossible human being Stoick had ever seen.

Dragon fighting was out of the question of what to do with him. Hiccup couldn't listen, couldn't follow a single instruction, and simply didn't have the body to handle it. The latter wasn't the problem—when it came right down to it Stoick didn't care if the boy ever killed a dragon or not. But how was he supposed to feel any sense of calm about someone who couldn't follow a single instruction meant for his safety?

That was part of the reason Stoick apprenticed Hiccup to Gobber. It was clear early on Hiccup had the brains for it, and maybe if he were distracted by the forge he would be less likely to run brainlessly off into danger.

That never really worked.

So when Stoick experienced that minute of horror upon finding Toothless limp on the ground with no sign of Hiccup anywhere he could hardly be blamed for leaning towards overprotective. It didn't get much better upon discovering Hiccup alive.

And of course that injury to Hiccup's foot nearly killed Stoick. No parent would hope anything like that upon a child. Stoick would have taken it in a heartbeat if he could, the amputation, the pain that was certain to come with it, everything.

He knew it was going to all but kill Hiccup. The boy had never been the one for sitting still.

Stoick knew what he was supposed to say. It was a tragic injury, it was certainly no fun, but it was far from death. And Hiccup was young, still growing. He would adjust, it would get easier, and he could still very much get around. Yes, all of that, all of it true, all of it beneficial.

But Stoick still wished it would never have happened.

Mostly.

It was the reason he hated all those truths he was going to have to say. They were good, mostly. But still they gave far too much freedom. He felt guilty for how he felt, but there was the tiniest part of him that couldn't help be thankful for the injury.

Maybe, for a little while, Hiccup would be slowed down. And out of danger.


	3. Womanly Duties

Thanks everyone for reading!

Here's another funny one.

**Womanly Duties**

It broke her heart to see Hiccup this way, so still and quiet as he lay in that bed day after day. He might have been just sleeping, but time marched steadily onward without a sign of just when he might wake up.

Astrid would visit him and sit by his bedside for as long as she dared allow herself—a few hours here and there. She had responsibilities in the village, chores to do, a life to live—not to mention a tough girl reputation to defend. She hoped no one would catch her, crying softly over some injured boy, spending time with a boy like she were nothing better than all the other silly and giggly girls of the village.

But while she hated to think of herself as silly, she was still a girl and possessor of all those female sensitivities. Devotion, caring, gentleness.

So what if she cared for Hiccup? She was not ashamed, which was no longer a threat considering the new popularity the unconscious boy did not even know he had. So she would sit by his side, her heart aching in her chest, until she could know for certain that he would be all right.

And she was not alone. Ruffnutt, also in a random channeling of sweetness and tenderness, sometimes joined her. Astrid was grateful for the companionship and that girl-to-girl expression of feelings that they never really got to have around the boys.

In many ways those hours at Hiccup's bedside were good. Astrid felt less like a little girl pretending to be a warrior and more like a woman. She was exploring an entirely different side to herself.

But, in other ways, those hours were, well… boring.

After all, Hiccup was unconscious, didn't talk in his sleep a whole lot, and was frankly little more than a dull object to look at it. There were only so many weapons to sharpen outside of a forge and practicing her needlepoint and stitching at an invalid's bedside just seemed a bad cliché. If Ruffnutt were there, well, they could only talk so long about how they felt such mixed emotions when it came to slaughtering enemies and there really weren't that many cute boys in the village to discuss.

Yes, those hours could be boring.

"Part of me wants to leave," Ruffnutt said one particular day. "Part of me shrieks that I could be out fighting or taming a dragon or whatever we're supposed to do now. Yet I would also feel guilty leaving you here by yourself. With him. Our village hero. I should be here with him. But I also want to be out there, championing his cause."

"You're so eloquent today," said Astrid.

"Aren't I? I can't help it. Sometimes I wish I could be like the guys and just think of a single thing at a time."

"But how would we get anything done without multi-tasking? Really, I don't know why men are in charge. Things would be so much better with women in charge." Astrid sighed and stared at Hiccup. Still unconscious. "But I'm bored. But what if I leave and he wakes up? I'd completely lose out on the devoted girlfriend image I'm trying to make here."

"Such a tough call."

They both continued to watch Hiccup. He was extremely boring.

"Hey, Ruffnutt," Astrid said finally. "Do you want to go grab your brush?"

"Why? Is your new idea to do hair?"

Astrid pointed at Hiccup. "His hair."

Ruffnutt laughed. "Seriously?"

"Why not? We should take care of him while he's healing."

Ruffnutt stared at Hiccup. "Didn't your mom make you some cosmetics for some ceremony?"

Both girls were silent for a long time.

"They're under my bed," Astrid finally said.

Hiccup had really good hair. While shortish, it still braided well if the braids were tiny enough, and the girls were nothing if not talented at braiding hair.

Then the cosmetics. Simple stuff, mostly for the face, a little bit for the eyes. And of course there was always the easiest make-up possible: soot.

The entire activity took up a good solid hour, after which they stood back to admire their handiwork.

"He'd kill us," Astrid said.

Ruffnutt nodded.

"Maybe… maybe we should go."

"Yes. We've done our womanly duty. Wanna spar?"

"Sure."

They left.


	4. Walking Lessons

_My longest one yet! So I don't think these are stories are going in any particular chronological order. Thank-you so much for reading/reviewing/favoriting/alerting. It means a lot._

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**Walking Lessons**

Hiccup released his breath, the same mouthful of air he had been savoring since the first moment of the downward swoop towards the island. Toothless' muscles shifted beneath him as his legs stretched out toward the ground. Toothless landed, the long grass of the hillside reaching up to Hiccup. The dragon yawned lazily as Hiccup climbed off and nestled himself down for a much-deserved rest.

The afternoon was wearing away, the sky warmer with the approach of dusk. How long had they been flying? Hiccup found it impossible to keep track of the hours. He had not yet been instructed to return to many daily procedures, so the time passes with little rhyme or reason. Hard work and demanding chores were part of village life, and Hiccup felt oddly distraught and even lazy at the stretch of time allowed to him.

But aside from a few morning hours at the blacksmith shop and doling out the dragon wisdom everyone now demanded from him he was still considered, if not sick, in a state of healing. Wasn't that the truth? Despite nearly two weeks of being unconscious his body seemed incapable of holding much energy, and he was certain he fell exhausted into bed before any of the small children. It wasn't that he felt sick or even especially weak, but normal daily endurance was something that kept away from him. It was expected, the healer told him, considering what he had been through. Yes, his body, what was left of it, was still healing and he needed to take it easy. Everyone seemed fine with that. Rest, relax, recover.

Except for the lessons.

Hiccup leaned against Toothless. He was already yawning. The flight must have been hours, at least. Amazing how quickly they passed, a rush of sheer pleasure in unbroken freedom. Flight. How had he lived before finding a dragon? He swallowed the yawn best he could and opted instead of another deep breath. He pushed himself away from Toothless and for a quick moment, fought for balance. Relatively easy, but the movement had yet to become instinct. He was to make it instinct, Gobber had told him over and over. He really had no other choice about it.

Fortunately they had landed not far from the back door. It was cheating, as he had been told repetitively. Well, no one was around to watch, and he could do this. He now had balance, he had control, and a short walk was nothing for him. At least, not much. Short walks didn't hurt much anymore.

The throbbing was still there, dim and faded, but still there. He didn't really think of it as pain, just an irritation that he had been assured would eventually pass. Apparently his body still did not know what to make of the loss of the limb and could not help but protest.

But walking a few yards was not a problem. Still, grabbing the doorknob, he took a moment to rest and prepare the lie for whenever it would need to pop up. He had been out in the woods. He had always loved the woods and everyone knew that about him. A refreshing walk through the trees. Practice. If only he had remembered the crutch. One had been whittled for him, for practicing long distances. Well, he could always say he was practicing without it. With any luck, the lie would never need to come up. He pushed open the door.

No such luck. His father was there, leaning back in the chair that still sat near Hiccup's bed. His eyes were on Hiccup, and he nodded in first greeting.

Hiccup stood up as straight as he could. "Hi, Dad."

"Hello, son. How was your day?" He leaned forward, smile warm.

Hiccup didn't really trust warm smiles from his father. He cleared his throat. "Um, I was in the woods. I went for a walk."

The smile broadened. "I'm glad to hear it. Did you get very far?"

Quick nod, that was what he needed here. "I went out for almost two hours."

Stoick nodded again and stood up. "You must be exhausted. Feeling okay?"

What was okay anymore? His leg throbbed just from standing here. He smiled and walked to the bed. Another short distance. Those were easy. "A little tired. I think I might need to tighten the bandages so I don't get any swelling again—"

"You went flying again."

The man had eyes everywhere. He froze where he was, all weight on his right leg.

Stoick sighed and shook his head. "You weren't supposed to go flying, Hiccup. You're supposed to be taking care of yourself!"

"I thought that was your job as parent," Hiccup muttered.

"Yes, and presently the job is to give you instructions in hoping you'll figure it out for yourself one day. You were supposed to practice walking!"

"Toothless needs the exercise. And I'm still using my leg for that. Gobber said it was all right and it would help with the muscle and—"

"Not in place of walking." Stoick seemed twice as big as he was, arms crossed over his chest.

Hiccup finished the distance to the bed and collapsed onto it. "I did practice."

"Something more than walking back and forth across the room a few times. This is a house, not the bloody Hall. Endurance, Hiccup. You're supposed to be working for endurance and distance right now."

"But it hurts," he said mostly to himself. Yet the words practically echoed throughout the room. He stared down at what had replaced his foot. It did hurt. Maybe he should tighten the bandages.

"And it's going to keep hurting if you keep babying it like you are."

Hiccup closed his eyes. "I like flying. I'm an expert flyer. I need to show everyone—"

"Not now."

"You keep interrupting me!"

"Because you don't listen."

Hiccup felt like throwing in a "neither do you" but kept it back. It wasn't the best thing to say when his father was right about all of this.

"I'll be back in a few hours," Stoick said finally. "Fify times back and forth."

Hiccup groaned. He sounded like a baby, but it just came out. "Back then forth."

"Both. Laps. Across the room. Ten times up and down the steps." Stoick headed to the door. "The ones out front. I'll see you tonight." He left.

Hiccup swore and fell back on the bed to stare at the ceiling. Fifty laps across the room. That was not a short distance. Was the man out of his mind? His father had no idea how it felt.

It wasn't just walking with a little bit of pain. Everything was different. The way he had to lift the new leg. The way he had to rest on it. The way nothing below his knee could twist. It was learning to walk all over again.

And it was hard and it hurt.

Well, Gobber would give the same exercise. Probably make it worse, actually. But at least he'd give it with more empathy.

He exhaled, blowing his hair from his eyes, and sat up. They were right. Of course they were right and everything he felt told him they were right. He had to practice, he had to work. The last thing he wanted was to become the village's problem. An invalid. A cripple. Hadn't he thrown himself from his bed not even a minute upon waking up?

But right now flying was so much more natural.

Carefully he untied the leather strap and removed the leg. The bandages about the stump were slightly loose, just as he had expected. He grit his teeth and forced his hands over the stump in a painful massage. There. He was doing what he had been told. Working the blood, keeping the muscle going. He still felt flying helped at that, the way he had to push from the knee to work the stirrup. Then he took the bandages and pulled and rewrapped until he felt the odd comfort of pressure.

Then he replaced the leg.

It was a good replacement, though he still wished they had never had to cut off his leg in the first place. Was there no other way to heal crushed bone? But the measurement was right and the fit was good.

But as they said he was still healing, and that apparently meant pain.

He pushed himself up, once more letting all weight fall to his right leg.

Fifty laps. Then the steps. The ones outside, all widely set apart.

He crossed the room, touched the opposite wall, and crossed back to the bed. Short distances. He could do those, no problem. But fifty of them?

"One."

_The End_


	5. Girlfriend

Having a girlfriend was, first of all, cool. Hiccup was a teenage boy, after all, and what did teenage boys like if not girlfriends? It was a symbol of status, of power, of not being a complete loser. Not to mention that Astrid was cute, brave, and made his heart perform back flips whenever she came around. Hiccup loved being around her, even loved just thinking about it her when she wasn't around. And it wasn't just the lovey dovey stuff. Between them lay a connection, a firmness in their companionship. It was a partnership. He could even imagine marrying her in a few years. Yes, having a girlfriend was great.

He just wished it hadn't come on so strong. He wished he had known about it.

While getting a kiss within five minutes of regaining consciousness was all five kinds of incredible, Hiccup had not expected the sudden flow of the relationship.

Astrid was set on being his girlfriend. Which was fine. The wild warrior girl was showing her softer side, acting as a woman, someone feminine. Astrid had quite the girly side.

The kisses were fine. More than fine. So Astrid liked kissing. Great. He was a big fan of the kissing. So Astrid liked physical affection. Wonderful. So Astrid liked flowers. Well, girls liked flowers.

He figured he should be the one bringing them to her, though.

How many species of flowers inhabited the island?

Astrid put them anywhere and everywhere after the simple beginning of handing him a flower whenever she saw him. Which was often. He was recuperating and therefore not doing much, so she could pop in and see him between her duties and kiss and hug him… and hand him a flower. That added up to a lot of flowers. And then they started appearing everywhere. He would wake up in the morning to find his bed covered in flowers. Who was allowing her to creep in and do this? It was downright humiliating. He was a guy. Guys did not like flowers. Guys should be bringing her flowers.

So he told her so. After all, this was Astrid. Astrid was tough.

But Astrid was still a girl. He was not even through his speech when her eyes went wide and wet. "I brought them for you! It makes me happy when I see them! And you're not bringing me any flowers."

"Astrid, please don't cry." He couldn't handle crying girls.

She didn't cry, thank the gods. Instead, the teary eyes dried up in rage as she then proceeded to tear up every flower she had ever brought him.

Well, it had an even bigger mess that was not nearly as attractive as flowers everywhere, but Astrid was pretty darn cute when she was mad.

At least the flower situation was over.

But then there was the talk. Cute talk. In public. She had not yet created any pet names, but she certainly liked to mention to everyone around how cute he was, how brave he was, how wonderful he was.

And if he tried to stop her, she just punched him.

There was a lot of punching when one was in a relationship with Astrid. And since he hadn't quite adjusted to balancing himself, many of those punches ended up in really bad falls.

Which then made Astrid feel bad.

Which then led to more kissing. One-sided kissing from her. In public. He wasn't comfortable with that idea. But he couldn't say that or she would punch him.

It was a vicious cycle.

And she never, ever went away. Ever. Even when she was gone, she wasn't. She was out there somewhere in the village, thinking about him, talking about him.

Hiccup had seen other couples behave this way. But it was so weird.

Because after an hour or so she would run into the house, the forge, wherever he was and kiss him. No flowers. And then she would yell at him for working too hard or not building up his energy by working while everyone was staring and proceed to plan out his entire day for him.

He couldn't say anything.

She would punch him if he did.


	6. Moving Furniture Part 2

**Moving Furniture, Part 2**

Hiccup was feeling more and more confident about getting up and down the stairs. The first couple of days, well, he hadn't even bothered with that.

But it was extremely awkward having a bed in the middle of the main room. He could feel people's eyes on it when they entered the house for a visit. He wasn't sure if people judged other based on their beds, but everyone's eyes seemed to linger just a little too long on it.

His dad said people just weren't used to seeing a bed in the main floor of a house that obviously had another room for sleeping.

Which was kind of the problem.

And he was still recovering. Which meant sometimes falling asleep very early. Which meant having his father's friends come over when he was trying to sleep. Vikings could get very loud.

So he practiced climbing the stairs. Because once he could maneuver the stairs, all would be right with the world once more. Once he could maneuver the stairs without giving his dad something to laugh at, he would have an argument for moving the bed back upstairs.

For some reason, his dad got an exasperated look at the thought of moving the bed.

The first few times he tried the stairs were not good. He tripped. He lost all energy half way through and wound up lying there for a few minutes until Toothless bothered him or his dad asked what in Hel's name he was doing.

Once he fell right off the side.

Teeny-tiny steps were difficult when one was still figuring out to do with one's new left foot.

Going down was even worse.

But at least the day came when he could walk up and down the stairs without any problems whatsoever.

Secure in his abilities, he approached Stoick. "Can we move my bed back upstairs?"

Stoick looked downright sick at the idea. "What's wrong with it where it is?"

"It's weird."

"Lots of houses have just one room. You've been spoiled by the idea of a sleeping room."

Hiccup sighed. "Yes, I have. I admit it. This house has spoiled me. So can we move my bed back?"

Stoick sighed. "Are you sure?"

"Dad, it's taking up a lot of room down here." His father couldn't argue with that.

Stoick pulled at his beard. "Fine. You can move it, then."

It was at that time that Hiccup realized he had actually never moved around his bed before. For as long as he could remember it had been upstairs in one spot, never moving.

Large wooden beds were heavy. Hiccup positioned himself against the wall and pushed.

The bed did not move.

He pulled. The bed did not move.

He tried the use of Toothless. But for the life of him he could not explain to the dragon what he wanted to do. He tried to demonstrate by putting his head against the headboard.

"Push!" he instructed Toothless.

The dragon tried to push the bed into the hearth.

Well, at least it was closer to the stairs.

Which led to the little matter of getting the bed up the stairs.

Okay, so perhaps Stoick was being mean. His son had nearly died saving half the village, and all he wanted was that his bed be moved back upstairs. Such a simple and humble request.

Besides, it was weird to have a bed downstairs, now that he thought about it. He must have gotten used to it. It had been so convenient for checking on Hiccup after the fall. And it did make things easier for Hiccup. But if he could manage the stairs, why not?

He heaved one end of the bed onto the first step. The bed that was ever so much wider than the steps. He took a deep breath and pushed it up a step. Then another.

Maybe getting it back upstairs would be easier.

"Do you need help, Dad?" Hiccup asked.

Stoick shook his head. He could barely lift the bed, let alone Hiccup.

And the dragon seemed to think moving the bed was a game.

Another shove. Another step. Yes. He could do this.

But then there came a horrible moment the bed, about a quarter of the way up the staircase, could be moved no further. At least, pushed. Gravity was doing its job.

Logically, the bed would have to be pulled up.

Or he could do the obvious and send Hiccup to ask someone else to come help. Two men lifting would be easier. But that would mean admitting defeat in front of his own kid.

Somehow, he had to get to the other side of the bed and pull it up. Stoick stepped back and stared at the situation. He didn't think he could climb up from the side. Climbing over the bed would probably work.

But that only made the bed slide sideways over the edge.

"Want me to get someone, Dad?" Hiccup asked.

"No." He would not admit defeat.

"Toothless could push from the front."

"No." He would not ask a dragon for help.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure." Stoick tried pulling. He climbed on the stairs first and gripped the headboard. He pulled. The baseboard comfortably bumped up a step. Then another.

It was working. He was in charge of gravity now. One step at a time. Bump. Bump. Bump.

And finally, the bed was at the top of the stairs. He had done it. Now he only had to pull it through into the room, right through the doorway…

He had forgotten the doorway was too small.

"You might have to turn it sidew—"

"I know!" How was he supposed to turn the bed sideways? No one was that strong. What had he done before? Push? That had worked. Sort of. He gave a mighty pull and yanked the bed through.

The movement was powerful. It was a movement only Stoick the Vast could do. The doorframe gave a distinct cracking sound, but the bed came through, almost flying, knocking him backwards…

And landing right on top of him.

"Dad?" Hiccup called from downstairs. "Are you okay? Do you want me to go get someone?"

"No!" Stoick called. That would be admitting defeat.


End file.
